indeed be allowed that those are guilty of no exaggeration, who assert that Constantinople exhibits a view superior in beauty to any in the world.* We landed at Galata. I immediately remarked the bustle on the quays, and the throng of porters, merchants, and seamen, the latter announcing by the different colour of their complexions, by the diversity of their languages and of their dress, by their robes, their hats, their caps, their turbans, that they had come from every part of Europe and Asia to inhabit this frontier of two worlds. The almost total absence of women, the want of wheel carriages, and the multitude of dogs without masters, were the three distinguished characteristics that first struck me in the interior of this extraordinary city. As scarcely any person walks abroad but in slippers, as there is no rumbling of coaches and carts, as there are no bells and scarcely any trades that require the aid of the hammer, a continual silence prevails. You see around you a mute crowd of individuals, seemingly desirous of passing unperceived, as if solicitous to escape the observation of a master. You are continually meeting with a bazar and a cemetery, as if the Turks were born only to buy, to sell, and to die. The cemeteries, without walls, and situated in the middle of the streets, are magnificent groves of cypresses; the doves build their nests in these trees and share the peace of the dead. Here and there you perceive antique struc

* For my part, however, I prefer the bay of Naples.

tures, harmonizing neither with the modern inhabitants, nor with the new edifices by which they are surrounded: you would almost imagine that they had been transported into this oriental city by the effect of enchantment. No sign of joy, no appearance of comfort meets your eye; what you see is not a people, but a herd tended by an iman and slaughtered by a janissary. Here is no pleasure but sensual indulgence, no punishment but death. The dull tones of a mandoline sometimes issue from the extremity of a coffee-room, and you perceive the children of infamy performing immodest dances before a kind of apes seated around small circular tables. Amidst prisons and bagnios rises a seraglio, the Capitol of slavery: 'tis here that a consecrated keeper carefully preserves the germs of pestilence and the primitive laws of tyranny. Pallid votaries are incessantly hovering about this temple, and thronging to offer their heads to the idol. Hurried on by a fatal power, nothing can divert them from this sacrifice; the eyes of the despot attract the slaves, as the looks of the serpent are said to fascinate the birds on which he preys.

There are so many accounts of Constantinople, that it would be absurd in me to pretend to give a description of that city. The reader may, therefore, consult Stephen of Byzantium; Gylli de Topogra. phia Constantinopoleos; Ducange's Constantinopolis Christiana; Porter's observation on the Reli gion, &c. of the Turks; Mouradgea d'Ohsson's Tableau de l'Empire Ottoman; Dallaway's Ancient

and Modern Constantinople; Paul Lucas; Thevenot; Tournefort; lastly, the Voyage pittoresque de Constantinople et des Rives du Bosphore; the fragments published by M. Esmenard, &c. &c.

There are several inns at Pera which resemble those of the other cities of Europe; to one of these inns I was conducted by the porters, who officiously seized my baggage. I then repaired to the French palace. I had had the honour of seeing at Paris General Sebastiani, ambassador from France to the Porte: he insisted on my dining every day at his table; and it was only on my earnest solicitation that he permitted me to remain at my inn. By his directions, the Messrs. Franchini, the chief drogmans to the embassy, procured the firmans necessary for my voyage to Jerusalem, which the ambassador accompanied with letters addressed to the superior of the religious in the Holy Land, and to our consuls in Egypt, and in Syria. Fearing lest I should run short of money, he gave me permission to draw bills upon him at sight whenever I might have occasion; and adding to these important services the attentions of politeness, he condescended to shew me Constantinople himself, and to conduct me to the most remarkable structures. His aidesde-camp and the whole legation shewed me so many civilities that I was absolutely put to the blush; and I deemed it my duty to express in this place my unfeigned gratitude to those gentlemen.

I know not how to speak of another person whom I ought to have mentioned the first. Her

extreme kindness was accompanied with a moving and pensive grace, which seemed to be a presentiment of what was to follow: she was nevertheless happy, and a particular circumstance heightened her felicity. I myself shared that joy which was so soon to be converted into mourning. When I left Constantinople, Madame Sebastiani was in the bloom of health, hope, and youth; and before my eyes again beheld our country, she was incapable of hearing the expression of my gratitude:

Trojâ infelice sepultum

Detinet extremo terra aliena solo.

At this very time a deputation from the Fathers of the Holy Land happened to be at Constantinople. They had repaired thither to claim the protection of the ambassador against the tyranny of the governor of Jerusalem. The Fathers furnished me with letters of recommendation for Jaffa. By another piece of good fortune the vessel carrying the Greek pilgrims to Syria was just ready to depart. She lay in the road and was to sail with the first fair wind so that had my intention of exploring the plain of Troy been accomplished, I should have been too late for the voyage to Palestine. The bargain was soon concluded with the captain, and the ambassador sent on board for me a supply of the most delicate provisions. He gave me a Greek, named John, a servant of the Messrs. Franchini, for my interpreter. Loaded with kindness and good wishes, I went on the 18th of Sep

tember, at noon, on board of the ship of the pilgrims.

I must confess, that if I was sorry to quit those from whom I had received such extraordinary attention and civility, I was nevertheless very glad to leave Constantinople. The feelings which, in spite of you, will obtrude themselves in that city, spoil all its beauty. When you reflect that these regions were formerly inhabited but by Greeks of the Eastern Empire, and that they are now possessed by Turks, you are shocked at the contrast between the people and the country; you think that slaves so base, and tyrants so cruel, ought never to have dishonored such magnificent abodes. I had arrived at Constantinople on the very day of a revolution: the rebels of Romelia had advanced to the gates of the city. Obliged to bend to the storm, Selim had exiled and dismissed the ministers obnoxious to the janissaries; it was expected every moment that the discharge of cannon would announce the execution of the proscribed. When I contemplated the trees and the palaces of the seraglio, I could not suppress a feeling of compassion for the ruler of this vast empire.* Oh! how wretched are despots amidst their prosperity, how weak amidst their power! how are they to be pitied who wring floods of tears from so many of their 'fellow-creatures, without being sure that it will not come to their turn to

* The unhappy end of Selim has but too well justified this pity.